Frontier
by SovereignGFC
Summary: The extra-galactic invasion has been thwarted. New alliances have been formed, gaining Shepard's forces a powerful new asset. However, all is not well within the Trans-Galactic Republic... Sequel to "Origins" (itself a sequel to "Fractured").
1. Our Normandy

A/N: This went on far, far longer than I anticipated. It wasn't ever meant to be one hundred and one chapters, nor was it meant to have a third sequel, but here we are.

 **Chapter 1 – Our Normandy**

The calm before the storm. As cliché as it was, no better phrase could describe the attitude aboard Admiral Adam Grayson's fleet numbering beyond ten million ships. Most of these vessels were operated by no-nonsense, all-military clones of Athena from Pandora. Such individuals required virtually no relaxation, no entertainment, and none of the civilian-grade comforts that were faithfully digistructed into each _Revenant_.

"We're not filling the pools" insisted Grayson. "Water's a bit short, even after re-appropriating every last drop from those Republic Intelligence Service fit-out facilities. Also, showers every third day, no more!"

Still unable to store water digitally or generate it via that method without producing a toxic mess, the only remaining source ended up being hydrogen fuel cells, often included as backup power aboard starships. Such water prevented shortages, but didn't allow for luxuries.

Samantha Shepard tried to treat it as shore leave, but such relaxation eluded her as she knew full well her position within the fleet: leading one of several prongs of a massive charge toward her ancestral home—Earth. Mere hours remained before reverting from hyperspace. Hours she'd been told to spend sleeping, but couldn't. Despite going off on Cortana _in absentia_ earlier while speaking to Sarah, she missed the comfort of having an AI around. No EDI, no Cortana… Just a cold, gray starship with several hyper-fast computer cores, but no personality whatsoever. Its monotone "voice" warned her "ten minutes to realspace reversion."

"When did that happen?" she muttered. "Did I get sucked into some kind of time warp?"

Quickly, Shepard threw on her uniform and made fast time to the bridge in time for transition to realspace.

"You know the drill, Shepard" came Admiral Hackett's gravelly voice over the comm. "So do the clones—everyone knows the part they must play if this invasion is to be successful."

"Well, here we go again. One more giant space battle and the ground-pounders might finally have their day!"

Three squadrons of Star Dreadnaughts for a total of eighteen ships appeared first—the "tip of the sword."

"Captain Shepard, sensors are showing…nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Ma'am, there are no defenses, no ships, no stations… Just a planet covered in Flood biomass. Residual readings suggest there were once large structures in orbit, but they disintegrated years ago. By who or for what purpose, Captain, I cannot tell."

"My guess is the Flood digested them" replied Sam.

 _So strange to finally have that rank after unofficially holding it for damn near a decade._

Shepard opened her mouth to give the order. The big one. The start to the end. She smiled. This time, she would not be burning defenseless civilians. The fire would cleanse and allow reclaiming of her home.

"This is Captain Shepard on authority of Admiral Hackett: Begin Base Delta Zero."

Ordinarily, destroying the entirety of a planet's crust, atomizing its topsoil, and reducing anything on the surface to molten remnants would not have been necessary or even productive. But with digistruction for repairs and the threat posed by even a single Flood spore remaining untouched, a "BDZ" made perfect sense.

Though naval architects endeavored to avoid unbalanced armaments, it was still the case that _Revenant_ -class Star Dreadnaughts possessed more weaponry on their topsides than bottoms. Each of the eighteen would position itself so its orbit would look "upside-down" as its bridge tower pointed toward the target. Some level of weapon range was recovered despite synthetic Tibanna due to the real deal being mixed in from RISE's arming depots, and the dark energy reactors supplied enough energy to double the power fed to turbolasers.

Triangular bridge windows darkened, polarizing to prevent eye damage from the incredible lightshow going on outside. With over five thousand primary weapons (more than half of them firing down into the planet now) multiplied by the total number of ships, Earth would be declared Flood-free within hours. Even the tens of thousands of smaller weapons which were considered the main armament on a _Curator_ or _Minerva_ added to the blaze of firepower crashing into Earth's yellow-brown surface, further demonstrating the sheer power of Star Dreadnaught designs.

"This is both awe-inspiring and chilling, to wield this much destructive ability" said Shepard to no one in particular as waves of fire washed over Earth.

"Ma'am, we have plenty more of these to conduct" replied a nearby ensign. "There are tens of millions of clusters left to clear!"

The lack of any resistance whatsoever had almost every commander on edge, but Cortana assured them it meant the Flood likely became complacent, so used to nothing of note happening it saw no reason to deploy its monsters. This would ultimately turn out to be wrong, but not for a while.

After the first admittedly-overly-heavy-handed clearing of Earth, ships were divided into more practical groups. Larger systems saw the arrival of a Star Dreadnaught; the rest a squadron or two of _Minervas_. The four remaining _Avengers_ also saw duty, using their massively enlarged combinations of weapons to great effect. Really, _Minervas_ and their soldiers would be far more useful for dealing with whatever militarized shenanigans took place within the Trans-Galactic Republic's Home Galaxy, not clearing Flood.

At Artemis Tau, the massed guns of _Minervas_ kept Flood at bay. Facing not one but three of the Flood "monster ships" only briefly seen prior to using _Farsight_ to drag _Ultimatum_ away, only a timely intervention saved the fleet. Cortana finally managed to defeat the last rings of security surrounding _Ultimatum_ 's remaining _Soul Reaper_ missiles, dialing down one until its detonation would only toast part of a system instead of at least a parsec. Though _Minervas_ would get caught in the blast, it was considered a necessary move and the three Flood superships disintegrated in a blinding flash.

"I hope they don't have too many more of those" sighed Cortana. "We only have nine missiles left."

"They weren't duplicated with the rest of the ship?" asked Grayson.

"No. Would have taken more time—even RISE was adding them afterward, and the arming depots didn't have any aboard. I suspect they were shipped in from yet another facility which made no appearance in any record I parsed when we captured each of these stations."

"I'm putting out a fleetwide call—any force that encounters the Flood supership is to turn tail and run. However, I will be using the cloak-capable vessels we have to tail these beasts so we can at least avoid them."

"What about the Home Galaxy?"

"Cortana, if you think we can split our forces…"

"I'm just warning you that while we focus on one threat another may knife us in the back. The Republic Intelligence Service is not likely to be sitting around playing sabacc while we do the 'hero's work.'"

"How is work on that slipdrive coming?"

"Crews report that the large-scale _Odyssey-_ class drive will be ready to install on _Ultimatum_ within weeks. Unfortunately, it's a choice between much of the ship's spinal-mounted weaponry and the added propulsive speed since preventing temporal issues at those velocities is…problematic."

"Once we have the slipdrive, I'm going to 'phone home' and see what's going on. What about stealth armor?"

"It's not armor, _per se_. A surface scattering field will drastically reduce any sensor returns from the ship—and any that _do_ come back will be badly garbled. But it's operational. Be warned, however, that significant weapon discharges or ship launches will disrupt the field and allow a cleaner read on _Ultimatum_."

"It sure is nice to have plans going the way we want for once."

"Agreed. Now, we should get back to work."

The AI's image disappeared, and Grayson resumed coordinating his fleet.


	2. Admiral Grayson, Holo Home

**Chapter 2 – Admiral Grayson, Holo Home**

"I'm surprised the HoloNet still recognizes this ship" he muttered, firing up a channel to what he thought would be the Executive Minister's office. Logs showed Admiral Allison Nimitz stopped reporting in a long time ago, and even in the relatively lackadaisical (by military standards) Spacelane Protection, that would have been merits for an angry holo demanding progress updates. No such messages had arrived and been subsequently ignored as he would have thought.

"This line has been permanently disconnected."

Pursing his lips, the Admiral wondered what in the ten galaxies could have led to the _Executive Minister_ needing a new HoloNet address without first alerting those who had legitimate reasons to speak with him (such as the Admiral of a galactic security asset) that a change in communication point was necessary. Perhaps some political machinations? The Minister generally needed to rotate his or her digital comm every so often as it would inevitably leak out, leading to mass campaigns from everyone holding some grievance. However, the system normally recognized verified inbounds like _Ultimatum_ and would seamlessly redirect to an equivalent comm. Not this time.

He and his successor sent much information on their stellar neighbors, the Reaper and subsequent Flood threats, and more back to the Trans-Galactic Republic. They had not received much in return, aside from a steady stream of supply convoys until a couple years ago. They simply ended without warning, though given the reach of RISE it wouldn't shock him if the Home Galaxy saw Gamma-Six as hopeless, thus not justifying further expenditure or long freighter trips demanding crews be paid triple-time.

Giving several levels of authorization, Admiral Grayson tapped into comms that would connect him with other leadership-level functions within the Trans-Galactic Republic's Home government. One by one, they scrolled by as unavailable, disconnected, or more ominously "office closed permanently."

"It seems" he thought, "that something has happened in the six years since I've been deployed. Short jaunt to see what those mass pulsars do, my ass!"

The Trans-Galactic Republic, being ten galaxies governed as a federation, did have other leaders of "less prestigious" galaxies, so he cracked open that portion of his comm-book. "Let's see…"

The second-most-influential galaxy in a "group of equals" carried the name "Delta" and operated under a President named Damien Bishop. Though he'd never spoken to President Bishop, in theory as part of a pan-galactic Spacelane Protection force whose duty was to _all_ members of the Trans-Galactic Republic he should be able to communicate directly. So Grayson attempted to do exactly that.

"Who the hell is this? How did you get this…"

The blonde leader tripped on himself to salute what was obviously an Admiral. Even if it were RISE, the niceties had to be observed.

 _Though this isn't a RISE code…_

"I am Admiral Adam Grayson of Spacelane Protection. I would hope that you were made aware of Terra Nova and the subsequent follow-up of Great Opportunities that were deployed far afield to defend neighbors against existential threats?"

"With all due respect, _Admiral_ , we've been fighting an 'existential threat' for years with no help at all from you space slugs. And _now_ you decide to check in? Who sent you?"

"Mr. President, I am deeply sorry we have apparently failed in our duty, but as I mentioned, I have been working in Gamma-Six for the past, well, six years."

"So you don't know then?" huffed Bishop. "You don't know how the Republic Intelligence Service took over, assassinated the Senate, and now is trying to contain the Flood with one hand while making bellicose threats against everyone who isn't Alpha on the other?" 

Grayson's head tilted in confusion. "Are you serious?"

"Admiral Grayson, do you think I, President of Delta, would make that up? Do you military-in-all-but-name-types ever read history that doesn't involve turbolasers?"

"Galactic scale coup d'états are more common than anyone would like to admit, so this isn't surprising on that level. Nor is it strange that the Republic Intelligence Service was behind it. Wolf Schmidt, a friend of mine in the community, had hinted there were some within RISE harboring dark desires, but I assumed it was just the Force talking."

It was Bishop's turn to be confused.

"I think the usual is 'Current' from where you're from, but we've done quite a bit of learning out here and there's far more to the Force than a few crazy torture powers that RISE liked to use."

"Are you going to help us, or not?" demanded Bishop.

"Yes" replied Grayson. "But you must realize we have two whole galaxies to clear of Flood, and if yours is not completely overrun then we must prioritize."

"If you were Charles Day I'd spit in your face for that. He constantly said 'just wait' and so we did. Nothing ever came, leaving us only aging _Prosecutors_ for defense. The reinforcements he promised never arrived!"

Grayson's mouth dropped open.

"I'd heard rumors, but it's really that bad? I will detach a fleet immediately!"

With significantly more planning, _Farsight_ used her e-space drive to pull thousands of _Minervas_ with their holds full of clones off on a 300-million-plus lightyear trip.

"President Bishop, I offer my personal apologies on behalf of a government that clearly failed to live up to its mission. I am dispatching a Star Dreadnaught-league vessel and many support ships to aid in the defense of your galaxy, and can only hope it will do some good."

Bishop laughed.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Admiral, but the government you and I both belong to doesn't exist anymore. It seems it's everyone who isn't the 'Council on the Establishment of the New Future' versus them. Do you want to hear everything else?"

Over the next twenty minutes, Grayson listened patiently as leaders from other galaxies contributed their own stories of being wronged by an ineffective Trans-Galactic Republic and subsequently having "the Council" rub salt in wounds, so to speak.

"To conclude" finished President Bishop, "It's not even about Human-centric government anymore. It's a kriffing Sith magocracy!"

"Though to be fair" said the Nami Inyri Garnik (who Grayson had to admit was quite attractive despite, or perhaps because, of Near-Human status) "they did finally quit with semantic games and are calling their military arms the New Army and New Navy respectively."

All involved had a chuckle at this. _Something_ had to be positive, right?

"There's a group of political dissidents within Alpha called the Admiralty" continued Garnik, Governor-General of Beta. "They generally stick to non-violent and political means to frustrate the Council. Strangely enough, Executor David Vance continuously refuses to do anything to silence them."

"Vance? That vape-headed rodder?" spat Grayson. "All he was ever good at revolved around blowing ion trails for the RISE Council…"

"He's still blowing ion trails" replied Garnik. "Just now they actually mean something."


	3. You Rang?

**Chapter 3 – You Rang?**

"This is inconvenient."

The last thing Executor David Vance wanted to see was that one of the Trans-Galactic Republic's old warhorses actually survived his trip to another galaxy. And based on Grayson's service record, he would neither fall neatly into line nor be swayed by the current state of power in the Home Galaxy.

Audit logs of old Trans-Galactic Republic HoloNet addresses clearly showed Adam Grayson using Allison Nimitz's ship to try to phone home. Where Nimitz had gone to nobody knew—it was strange that an Admiral was apparently doing a Fleet Admiral's job. Ultimately he would find nothing, though knowing the old man he probably went on to call other leaders in galaxies not firmly progressing toward the New Future. Which meant that there might be a Star Dreadnaught sized problem soon.

Day also had the displeasure of reporting to the Council that all extra-galactic manufacturing facilities were no longer reporting in. He'd tried to brush it off as a "minor matter" since the New Navy had been fully kitted-out and was crushing the Flood everywhere, but his superiors applied some "persuasion" that enabled him to see exactly what was wrong with his viewpoint. New Navy assets were thus deployed above the galactic disk. What they found even appeared to rattle the unflappable Council.

"The locations of these installations were Alpha-One" seethed one member to Vance. "I would like to know how someone got their hands on _every single digistruction plant we have_!"

"What's more concerning" continued another, "is that whoever took over seems to have made ample use of our dark star technology. According to the logs, over one hundred _Revenant_ dreadnaughts were produced, and they are set to loop on a class of ship I have never seen before, some 'Legionis Minerva.'"

"You speak of the logs, but you have clearly not read them" snarled the first. "Prior to producing ships, these systems produced huge numbers of what is unmistakably a cloning system. Whoever this is can be assumed to have a _huge_ army. In the trillions. That is the 'most concerning' item here!"

"Surely, our enhanced clones…"

"Were all routed" snapped a third. "We made a mistake—we thought no one could find our digistruction yards and now someone has gone and done exactly that. While the security we had would have been enough under ordinary circumstances, even dark-side powered warriors will fall under enough weight."

"We should deploy reconnaissance ships, then" concluded Vance. "If there is an invasion force on our doorstep, we should find out about it!"

[…]

 _Ultimatum_ reverted from eleven-dimensional slipspace in the Coruscant system, stealth shields fully active. This meant dialing down actual protective fields since their energy emissions would have to have been hidden otherwise, but so long as nobody scanned too closely for a 35-kilometer ship, loitering would be easy.

Cortana extended modules over the HoloNet to check out the current state of Coruscant itself. She was able to determine that "whoever governs there is definitely not Trans-Galactic Republic." Monitoring of open channels proved far more useful—those in power blatantly advertised themselves.

"Another day, another Base Delta Zero. Given the Paradise Worlds that are left behind thanks to large-scale digistruction droids, is it really that bad?" wondered Galaxy News Service anchor aloud. "For all the terrible things that the Council and the New Future have brought, development of the Outer Rim is certainly not one of them."

That the citizenry traded a democratic, but slow government for a fascist, racist, but highly productive one was not lost on commentators the galaxy over. The idea that "a speeder in every garage, a HoloNet transceiver in every town, and a job for every willing worker" would keep the otherwise fractious Outer Rim in line was not off-base; the fiercely independent systems that shunned most central governments were more than happy to be the recipients of such largess, especially when it had so few apparent strings attached. With Humans as almost 70% of the population galaxy-wide, de-jure racism against non-Humans (often unenforced by sympathetic locals) seemed a small price to pay.

"The Trans-Galactic Republic kept talking 'Everyone Forward, Everyone Upward' but the Council actually means it" became a common refrain.

"This is bad. This whole thing is rotten" fumed Cortana, having digested billions of exabytes of information from the HoloNet.

"What do we do about it?" asked Grayson. "The citizenry appears…happy for once. Far be it for me to endorse authoritarian governments, but it seems these dictators are only so _de jure_. They seem perfectly content to leave everyone alone."

"Systematically repressing thirty percent of your population is not going to end well. Many non-Humans have fled to the Outer Rim, where local authorities tend to ignore the more blatantly racist proclamations coming out of Coruscant, but that doesn't make it right. Furthermore, the rest of the Trans-Galactic Republic is more than content to disregard Alpha's blustering and continue governing as they did before. Do not be seduced by a calm ocean hiding roiling tides, Grayson."

"Comparing this to the empires of ancient history, it appears the Council has learned from the past. They avoid anything that would blatantly stir up rebellion and exert control in far more subtle ways."

"Exactly" replied the AI. "Many egomaniacs' downfall is their monumental stupidity—these Council types are too smart for that."

"Intelligent villains. Never saw that coming" cracked Grayson.

"And in order to defeat them, either we must find something they've hidden, or we must provoke them into shattering their own benevolent façade."

"Here's something."

Grayson pulled up a record on a world called "Byss."

"I wonder if these 'Paradise Worlds' are just dark-side feeding grounds? If that doesn't count as something worth rebelling over…"

"Suitably disgusting" replied Cortana with some level of discomfort. "However, I'm going to guess that if they are in fact as you suspect, again, the Council is not going to be so ham-handed about it. They've played a long game. Apparently long enough to wait millions of years for their time to take power if the Great Holocron's guess is correct. Would waiting millions more for the next step be too much for them?"

Grayson knew where his limits lay, so he sent this information to those best-equipped to parse it.

"Absolutely" insisted Master Luke Skywalker with conviction. "Every Jedi within this holocron agrees—when dark people with strange powers gather, nothing good ever comes of it."

"However" cautioned Tionne Solusar, "we have no idea what they are planning. Resurrecting long-gone Dark Jedi seems to be the common thread, but based on what you have described this 'Council' appears to realize these long-gones are gone for a reason: they were insane! Furthermore, to have defied the will of the Force itself as they have... No being has been known to survive millions of years without temporal stasis!"

"And what's to say they don't have such technology?" challenged Samantha Shepard via quantum link. "Every time I turn around, that galaxy" (she pointed accusingly) "is producing some fantastic new gadget that our own science says is impossible."

"They could be Eridians" hinted Sarah darkly. "Given how much effort those…manipulative individuals have gone to for various reasons, who knows if it's not yet another faction within the Guiding Hands sticking fingers where they don't belong?"

"As long as we're talking about ancient aliens" interrupted Solusar, "many Jedi have heard the tales of the Celestials, predecessors of unimaginable power who built engines capable of hauling entire planets through hyperspace. According to legend, they control the balance of the Force itself."

"To be fair, any of these theories are as good as any other" mused Cortana. "Considering how things have been going lately… Though if the Eridians, Forerunners, Forebears, and Guiding Hands also turn out to be the Celestials I think I might just delete myself."


	4. Can We Fix It? Yes We Can!

**Chapter 4 – Can We Fix It? Yes We Can!**

Despite the risks of rebuilding in a galaxy partially consumed by Flood, many of the now-endangered races opted to do so anyway due to the overwhelming size of their protective forces. Admiral Hackett, disdainful of the notion of a permanent military government, gave himself a strict timeline for the restoration of Earth. Using plans discreetly acquired by Cortana's ventures onto the public HoloNet, huge PVS ("Planetary reVitalization System") droids were digistructed in record time.

"We're going to have a hard time repopulating a planet with so few people" he'd said to Cortana as she downloaded the droid plans to his datapad.

"I have it all figured out." She refused to elaborate.

Several million CUBEs appeared along with the droids, though how clones would _solve_ the genetic diversity problem eluded Hackett and his science teams. His main concern was to turn the droids loose on a planet utterly destroyed first by Flood and then by orbital bombardment. PVS droids built gargantuan "world engines"—towering constructs placed in the depths of what had once been oceans to reintroduce the species lost as catalogued by Cortana's "Nova Vita" project.

"She actually did it."

The World Engines first refilled oceans boiled away by trillions of watts of laser energy through the same hydrogen generation process that kept dehydration away from _Ultimatum_. Then, their hypercloning cylinders began spitting out the basic building blocks of life to reestablish an atmosphere thinned by the Flood.

"The simpler the lifeform, the faster the cloning process" explained Cortana over quantum when Hackett wondered how his ships were already seeing primitive fish. "Be aware that the life you get isn't necessarily going to be the _exact_ same as what you had, but in general the ecosystem should fix itself relatively quickly. We're talking ten months to habitable and less than a decade to 'Nobody could tell this was done with technology.'"

As the battle group built around Star Dreadnaught _Demeter_ reverted near Tuchanka, Wrex expected to find a field of rubble. Seeing his planet in one piece, though covered in Flood, the old krogan stormed to the nearest quantum entanglement communicator. They represented the only reliable and available technology over such vast non-HoloNet-covered distances.

An ensign apparently had someone on, but the big krogan simply shoved him out of the way, terminated the call, and put out another one directly to _Ultimatum_ 's command channel. Several hops later, he reached his intended recipient.

"I owe you an apology."

Athena could think of only one reason why Wrex would be apologizing, though given the state of medical technology snapped legs were little worse than papercuts. She'd been up and about within hours afterward.

"I shouldn't have been working with those backstabbing double-dealers, either."

"Well, we've seen how big of a pyjack nest that was—can't blame you for thinking you were doing the right thing. Who knew CRITICAL was full of RISE spies?"

Wrex laughed, a thoroughly unpleasant sound to anyone who didn't know him.

"Anyhow, Tuchanka is in one piece. Covered in that disgusting mess, of course, but that's why we're here!"

His excitement showed even through a low-definition video link.

"Time to go make some things explode!"

Urdnot Wrex would have full authority to both clear the planet and rebuild it. A side-effect of turning the Flood-covered wasteland into molten glass was that PVS droids would also clean up radioactive debris left over from centuries of krogan warfare. He could only hope Mordin's cure was as good as the salarian insisted it was—a completely clear Tuchanka would lead to heavily moderated fertility rates if everything worked out.

"Maybe we can use our bloodrage for something productive, like defending civilization."

It was at this point the Flood asserted itself again in a rather vicious manner. Every manner of Flood vessel from the small to the large appeared _en masse_ at Tuchanka in the hopes of destroying a nascent krogan society before it could get off the ground. However, Grayson's canny move in using _Vorknkx_ intelligence ships and others to tail the biggest ships ended up paying off. The element of surprise never existed as thousands of _Minervas_ used their armaments to beat back advancing Flood. The largest, dubbed "sea monsters" informally, now faced a new challenge: bombers equipped with special missiles. These missiles were the single most potent anti-Flood weapon available but had only recently been revealed. The whole project came to light after Grayson (with Cortana's assistance) decrypted some of Allison Nimitz' files which triggered messages detailing exactly what the late Fleet Admiral had done with gaseous Eridium brought back by Sarah.

Aboard ships carrying millions of pieces of ordinance, a few thousand torpedoes spread among the fleet seemed nothing special. However, each warhead would make use of a tiny amount of Eridium gas that reacted with and destroyed nearly any matter put in contact with it. Approximately half the material had already been consumed by testing and development, leaving the remainder to be fired at Flood targets. That two or three of these could, given enough time, destroy an entire "sea monster" encouraged hit-and-run strikes to wait out the eventual disintegration of the target(s) in question. In this manner, Tuchanka was defended without further expenditure of _Soul Reaper_ missiles.

"We've found the source" reported one stealth-crew. "The Citadel itself has turned into a gigantic Flood lifeform."

"The overmind with inter-galactic reach" gasped Cortana. "If it figures out I'm here…"

"Let's make sure it doesn't. Is there anything of value on the Citadel that should be recovered first?" asked Grayson to his fellow-former-Councilors, summoned for this exact reason.

"Centuries of records" began Tevos.

"Reams of regulations and laws" continued Clethon.

Grayson visibly sighed. On one hand, to let this all be destroyed would be tantamount to destroying an entire civilization and its culture. That being said, it wasn't as if anyone had cared about incinerating Earth without checking for notes under the metaphorical keyboard first. The Admiral decided to let the one person he knew with experience telling off these politicians do it. He commed Samantha Shepard, who started off exactly how he figured she would.

"Is it not the case that the society which existed before the Reapers was slightly unstable? A bit of a pressure-cooker?" Her voice was taunting, daring anyone to step into her path.

"And I suppose you think the Trans-Galactic Republic, led by humans, can fix it?" replied Tevos irritably.

"I'll be completely and brutally honest—I can't imagine anyone doing any _worse_ of a job than sitting on a huge archive of ancient alien technology while demanding everyone else turn over theirs" (she nodded at Grayson who'd discreetly made her aware of this inconvenient fact), "ignoring two extinction-level threats in a row _and_ the precursor to the first threat… So yes, I think we've gotten to the point where almost anything is preferable to what was in place before. What matters more, your own egos or building something that isn't going to breed centuries of inter-species rivalries and resentments?"

Victus opened his mandibles but Shepard rolled right over him.

"If I was as human-supremacist as I'm sure some of you are thinking I am right now, consider this fact. _You are all endangered species_ whose only survival hinges on cloning technology created by a human AI and the good graces of the mostly-human fleet. If we wanted to ensure human dominance, _you wouldn't be here._ We wouldn't be having this conversation and I would have already smashed that monument to all our failures with every weapon available."

"Do you want a government that deadlocks as often as the esteemed Trans-Galactic Republic Senate appears to?" questioned Victus. "Grayson has told us many tales of inaction resulting from that body's inability to do anything."

Grayson kept his lessons learned from Bishop, Garnik, et. al. to himself.

"If this Council bred action, we would have done something about the Reapers without descending into a madhouse of authoritarian fascism. Bacta or no bacta, my shoulder still makes cracking noises from that damned rifle—so if anyone is going to seriously suggest the Citadel's Council system is capable of doing anything other than resolutely standing in the same place, I'd like to hear it!"

"Though you may think ill of the Trans-Galactic Republic" interjected Grayson, "we have had periods of great peace, growth, and development in our past. Furthermore" (his voice rose in indignation) "I submit that the Council system has only existed for two millennia—whereas we have had centralized galactic bureaucracies for millions of years! I think we know what we're doing, even if events don't always play out the way one would hope!"

"I suspect the ability to manipulate things with one's mind and assert near-magical powers might get to the head" added Shepard, much more thoughtful but still deliberately provocative. "Our galaxy never had these problems—many of the wars and disputes in the Trans-Galactic Republic's past have revolved around the Force. They curiously subsided when the Eridians, in their infinite wisdom, took the Force away. What does that tell you?"

Shepard disconnected and Admiral Grayson left his colleagues behind.

"I suspect the question we once asked him, about what he would do if he had the arbitrary power to reshape society, is about to be answered" said Tevos quietly. "I just pray to the goddess that his efforts are fruitful."


	5. Coup de Grâce

**Chapter 5 – Coup de Grâce**

Whether or not the Citadel had anything worth preserving on it became an entirely pointless question for Admiral Adam Grayson. Now aware it hosted the source of pretty much every problem his forces faced for the past few years, he could not care less if a few politicians were annoyed that as Shepard put it, "a monument to all our failures," was going to be utterly destroyed.

In preparation, Cortana removed herself entirely from _Ultimatum_ 's computer systems, electing to live in the Master Chief's neural circuits until all was said and done. Unfortunately, this had a side-effect; the ship became less functional and efficient than before, having grown used to a hyper-competent AI managing many critical systems.

Scouts reported the Citadel to be in the "closed" position. Thus, Grayson opted to fire a single _Soul Reaper_ missile as a first act. Its guidance computer would bring the ordinance in for a precision strike through what was known as the "Presidium Ring," followed by a full-power detonation inside the structure. Against the flashy-by-comparison Base Delta Zeroes that not only scoured Flood but gave great catharsis to those conducting them, using one warhead to essentially end the war seemed anti-climactic. Said warhead, a ship unto itself with advanced shielding, self-healing armor, pinpoint turbolasers, and enough energy to obliterate entire planets plus areas around, zipped out of _Ultimatum_ 's vertical launch tube like the munitions of an ancient cruise missile submarine.

The Master Chief, his armor airgapped and hardened against any attempted digital intrusions, received the honor of (again) pushing a button that would hopefully end the Flood threat. At the insistence of Samantha Shepard, a quantum-entanglement communicator attached to a vidcomm rode the weapon all the way to its destination, whereupon it began transmitting. Reverting from what was essentially a 0.25-class hyperdrive, the missile popped back into realspace among uncountable Flood ships, clearly amassed to protect the "overmind" from an impending assault. Forced to choose between stealth and active protection, engineers picked the latter years ago. Closer to disruptors than turbolasers, its defenses shredded inbound fighter-analogues while its weaving, unpredictable pattern flummoxed larger vessels.

A cruiser with faint Cerberus colorings placed itself between the weapon and its target. Several red lances cut a clean hole straight through the obstacle, which might well have been made of flimsiplast. Captured ships of all kinds poured fire into what the Overmind sensed represented a greater threat than its diminutive size suggested. Larger guns such as those found on infested _Curator_ s could not strike such a nimble foe, while more accurate lasers and mass drivers were unable to defeat its sophisticated defenses. Regular ionic wave pulses left hordes of drifting Oculi in its wake, while its pinpoint turbolasers swatted down anything too large to succumb to a single blast. The bridge tower of a _Curator_ drifted lazily into view: another obstruction. Shields flared, and the _Soul Reaper_ emerged unscathed from the other side.

A loud cheer met this development as videofeed broadcast the missile's view live throughout the fleet. Shepard could have sworn she heard it reverberate across space, before she harshly reminded herself "there's no sound in space."

A sharp turn. The _Soul Reaper_ repositioned itself to fly through the Presidium Ring, skimming a tower bloated with biomass as it went.

"I can't say I'll miss spacewalking on that thing" muttered Sam as the surface whipped by below. Severed tentacles flashed by, having attempted to stop the speeding projectile (and of course failing).

A reverberating mechanical voice came over the fleet's main comm.

"Ten. Nine. Eight…"

It seemed garish, almost childish, but after six years of endless war counting down to its end felt oddly appropriate.

"Have a nice day!"

The last line, programmed into the missile by a certain mischievous youngster under the guise of "learning," actually drew a few laughs. Blinding white, then the feed cut. Seconds later, it came back, replaced by video from a nearby stealth ship. Using hyper-resolution optics and extreme processing enhancement, an expanding white sphere could be seen in the frame's center. The Citadel's ward arms splayed out away from each other and tumbled slowly end-over-end as detonation tore the station apart. Orange and red could be seen on the insides as something (likely Flood) burned from extreme temperatures.

 _Ultimatum_ used her unique (for now) slipspace drive to arrive quickly for an inspection of results. No lifesigns could be detected in the smoldering ruins, nor was Cortana subject to possession upon re-interfacing with the Star Dreadnaught's computer systems. The ship idled for over an hour, running passive scans safely outside any "hot space" resulting from a _Soul Reaper_ detonation. Finally, completely satisfied nothing could possibly undermine the statement, Grayson opened a channel.

"Admiral Grayson to the fleet."

He paused, wanting to ensure no last-minute something would cause him to eat his words.

"It's over."

With that momentous phrase, operations moved from offensive to mop-up. Having lost their inter-galactic coordination, the Flood reverted to a feral state. While it still sought to form Graveminds as was its instinct, such creations could not grow in a day and any large concentration of biomass inevitably attracted the wrathful turbolasers of hundreds of _Minervas_ and their Star Dreadnaught minders.

Many would later say they felt as if time sped up after the Flood's official defeat. Diligence from crews, both clone and not, ensured no comeback would be possible. Unless the Flood migrated to other galaxies beyond the Local Supercluster, the threat was well and truly dead. Rebuilding of various societies accelerated with more effort dedicated to construction rather than its opposite. For once, a "single-solution-fits-all" worked out well: Cortana's painstaking catalogue originally stated to be for "Nova Vita" consisting of lifeforms from planets lost revived under guidance from PVS-constructed World Engines.

In this time of celebration, pause occurred upon reaching Rannoch. Both those quarians living in peace with the "old geth" and the original geth themselves had been utterly destroyed by the Flood. The few infected quarians were shambling shells of their former selves, and freed of their torment by a Base Delta Zero. Wreckage of the Sphere of Consensus drifted with no sign the Flood ever tried to consume it, only eliminate it as a threat. For months afterward, roving bands of _nar tasi_ geth would show up all over the galaxy—many were low on power and supplies due to having to fight the Flood for the metals and other materials even synthetic life needed, but were integrated into the fleet with minimal issue.

Heavily damaged computer systems recovered from the Sphere revealed the Consensus voted to move against the Flood after it assaulted Rannoch directly, but because so many resources had been devoted to the Sphere it wasn't possible for the geth to do anything more than hold the line. Despite not needing breaks or medical treatment, the old geth fell to endless waves of Flood ships battering their hulls, some still recognizable as having been "built by the Creators, but it is no longer the Creators who operate them."

"Whether they meant to or not, it appears the geth gave the Flood such a hard time it prevented the full force of the Overmind's fleets from running rampant in other galaxies. The geth saved us" eulogized Tali at the in-progress memorial being constructed at the coordinates of the Sphere. "This is now hallowed space, fit only for remembrance and reflection."

The monument would consist of a massive hologram representing what the geth Sphere would have been had the Flood not reduced it to wreckage. The _nar tasi_ , though they disagreed with the Consensus stance on fighting the Flood (further—they were right), volunteered to maintain the memorial "in perpetuity."

"And now, the rest" sighed Admiral Grayson. He'd gathered a war council again: Shepard, Garrus, Athena, Nova (overall clone representative in Mal's absence) and a handful of others. "What I am about to say does not leave this room…"

Dismay met his words as he described exactly what the Republic Intelligence Service had wrought in the "Home" galaxy.

"If what he is saying is true" explained Luke Skywalker in his holographic form, "then you are all in grave danger. But, like a klatooine paddy frog, you will not know your doom until the slimy hand of a Hutt reaches for you."


	6. Wheat and Chaff

**Chapter 6 – Wheat and Chaff**

"Now that's done with…"

Grayson decided he'd have this conversation privately. All but Sarah and Sam were dismissed.

"I must apologize in advance for bringing this up one last time, but it isn't going away unless we get rid of it. You both know that when the history of these trying times are all written, you both will come up for discussion. While it is not unreasonable to say what was done is wrong from certain points of view, I believe continuing to focus on it would be counter-productive. The pair of you have made outstanding contributions to the war effort. Punishment would be impossible in one case and likely to incite equally-passionate arguments that forgiveness is warranted in the other. Thus, my conclusion: Everything will be left in the open for all to see—but it will also be made explicitly clear that extenuating circumstances make a compelling case for goodwill forbearance and forgiveness."

"Can I just be done?"

Sam sounded exhausted, and her suddenly-slumping posture added to the impression despite being connected by a comm and not physically present.

"Censure me, send me away, make sure no one can find me. In fact, make damn well sure nobody with family problems, broken ships, missing colonists, or anything else can find me, but just leave me alone. Please?"

After a few seconds, Admiral Steven Hackett joined via quantum.

"You know Captain Shepard best. In my capacity as her superior officer, I am inclined to grant her permanent relief from duty, honorable, due to extraordinary service above and beyond any reasonable expectation. I do not know if the Systems Alliance has similar categorizations?"

"Ordinarily I'd say yes, but considering everything Systems Alliance was wiped out by the Flood, I no longer have any official authority over Samantha Shepard. If she were to elect no further service at this time, there would be nothing I could or would do."

"While I cannot guarantee personal isolation—this isn't a witness protection program—as far as Spacelane Protection is concerned I declare Samantha Elizabeth Shepard's duty complete within all necessary legal frameworks including but not limited to the CRITICAL and others. That is, assuming it still matters since what was once our government has now been entirely subverted, but rest assured there will be no further summons from myself or any person under my authority."

Sam smiled, a rare occurrence. "Well, I guess I can stick one to RISE then leave, right?"

Both responded at the same time. "Permission granted."

While Sam disconnected, the Siren remained physically present.

"What about me? I can't imagine that anyone would willingly provide living space for me."

"You're not quitting, are you?" asked Grayson, hoping his attempt at humor would not backfire.

Head drooping, eyes downcast, she gave as honest of a reply as she could. "Just wondering if I will ever fit in to a society that will likely view me as a horrible mass murderer and nothing else."

The Admiral pulled in a hefty breath before responding. "Some people will never accept that others may change, grow, or otherwise become different than who they were. There's nothing you can do about people like that—so just learn to ignore them. Education is the best way to confront such shortsighted individuals, but can only do so much. If someone wanted to believe Samantha Shepard had green hair and insisted all evidence to the contrary was fake, what would you do?"

Sarah laughed. "When you put it that way it seems so simple. Even Jackie will have it easier than me—I doubt anyone really knows what she was, and besides, that's rather minor compared to trying to clean up Flood by ending millions of lives."

"It's up to you. We still have another fight on our hands, and based on our encounters with RISE so far we could really use your help. If you decide to live on _Ultimatum_ for the rest of our natural lives, I won't object. But, and I know this seems petty—would you mind living somewhere else aside from the Admiral's quarters?"

"The only reason Nimitz stuck me in there was so if I did something she could eject me. Those Admiral's quarters are a ship unt…"

"Yes, I read the pamphlet" replied Grayson.

"Plus, if I lose control I smell awful enough to send most people reaching for air filters. I'll spray before I take my things."

[…]

Unlike its neighbor, impoverished Gamma-Three had fewer problems with Flood despite hosting a high-level intelligence thereof on a planet obliterated by missile. Sparse population combined with some level of competent defense of areas containing significant biomass on top of subduing geth left neither Flood intellect with the resources or desire to fully subjugate this galaxy after the failures of "Transcendent" Thalia to do so on their behalf.

"Owing to your monumental incompetence, power-mongering, and wasting of company resources I am invoking the Jakobs Charter to assert control of the company."

Jackie Jakobs dressed down Bill Arkansas as though he were a child found smearing skag droppings on the house.

"That requires the assent of the Board, shareholders, and…"

"They are all likely dead" shot back Jackie. "Lots of planets weren't hit by Flood, but lots of them were. Have you even bothered to read the Charter?"

She shoved a datapad in his face.

 _In the event of Dispute over Ownership of Family Assets, the following procedures shall be Observed…and lastly should these prove Unsatisfactory a simple Drawing of Arms shall suffice._

"Do you really want to go up against someone who can shoot a rifle out of a soldier's hand at a hundred meters?"

The fact that she dressed in clothing seemingly borrowing style from the Siren rather than her old wears that some said her top barely fit into somehow made Jackie _more_ intimidating—so Bill demurred.

"I thought so. From here on out, Jakobs will supply arms at reduced prices to those who are working with us to clear the Flood. All other priorities are secondary. Your last act as Chairman will be to convey my first order."

In a similar vein, the Maliwans found themselves on the receiving end of a generous contract to also supply munitions to units near and far. Their original contribution of ships having been destroyed by the Flood, Grayson reasoned Nimitz's bantering about "war crimes" seemed a bit out of place considering she also worked with Shepard and Sarah—both of whom caused far more destruction than a single world hit with nuclear arms. Perhaps it was their cavalier attitude in doing so, but the dissonance remained and he was happy to strike a bargain.

The Admiral kept quiet the reason he deployed _Ultimatum_ to 'Three instead of 'Six; he figured a society that never knew anything like a functioning government might need a firmer guiding hand than that which simply had to decide in what form its next democracy would take. Consequently, a quick jaunt across a few hundred thousand lightyears brought him into another battle that ended up being far easier than before. Advance-deployed forces consisting of other Star Dreadnaughts and their support had already begun cleanup, and without any overarching intelligence the Flood were little more than animals. The relative lack of population made sterilization all that much easier—not much to rebuild or worry about.

He found a high-priority transmission from Jackie Jakobs, the Maliwans, and several of Samantha Shepard's "Vault Hunter" pals awaiting his review upon returning to his quarters.


	7. New Seeds

**Chapter 7 – New Seeds**

Admiral Grayson gathered the message-senders together over various communication channels.

"You realize what you are asking for?" he opened. "The Trans-Galactic Republic is not what it once was."

"We still trust the idea of…" started Jackie.

"The _idea_ " retorted Grayson, "of a democratic republic is a good thing. But the actual Republic you're speaking of is anything but. Until its political situation is sorted out, I cannot guarantee you will not end up under the heel of a tyrant were you to try to bring in Trans-Galactic Republic forces to help your galaxy rebuild."

His next call dealt with that exact situation. Bishop, Garnik, Klozaar, Vanukar, and others representing the ten galaxies officially gathered to pronounce Alpha "out of order" and confer authority upon the one person they could apparently trust—Adam Grayson. His immediate response to Damien Bishop's request for assistance earned him a lot of credit, as did experience gained while a member of the Citadel Council (as ineffective as the body actually was).

"The Flood tide has stalled in all of our realms" enthused Garnik. "If it is not retreating, it is at least not advancing!"

The Admiral-now-galactic-executive explained why, to much cheering from his fellow leaders.

"I have an army" stated Grayson flatly. "And the ability, barring interference from the 'Council' back in Alpha, to make additional soldiers and ships. More advanced clones are on the way as well. Do I have your permission to take the fight to those who would tear our Republic asunder?"

"Given that keeping their attention away from everyone who has been weakened by Flood or simple lack of support as was promised when the Trans-Galactic Republic was formed is beneficial, this body has no objections" replied Vanukar.

Grayson signed off and met Athena in a secretive cloning bay. Rotating holograms compared the old (Athena) with the new—created by some kind of genetic fusion cooked up by salarian scientists for Cortana to implement. Athena made a small noise upon noticing Grayson's entrance.

"So you, and everyone else are here for the demonstration of why I should be replaced, huh?" No anger could be heard behind her words, more annoyance at having become obsolete. She understood the nature of progress and did not resent it.

Various animations played out showing clones getting shot, punched, squashed, and subjected to various Force-powered torments.

"Very inefficient use of resources" said a salarian introduced as Dr. Maelon Heplorn. "Mordin taught me a few tricks as he worked on a genophage cure. It doesn't bother me some of them came from the Republic Intelligence Service—it's just genetic sequencing techniques that, technically, we could have come up with on our own. At any rate, the main weakness of these clones, as you've seen, is that they're not very durable."

As if on cue, spotlights poured onto a doorway out of which a new clone stepped. She did not look like Athena—having shoulder-length silver-white hair and a much more muscled build. Similar chiseled face, but that was about it on resemblances. Grayson squinted. He was sure he recognized this clone from somewhere, a mission report or similar, but could not quite place her.

"We took genetic material from a Republic Intelligence Service operative captured when we captured the first digistruction stations far above Alpha. She was actually a specialized command unit with lower influences from the metaphysical 'Force' than the rest of her underlings. Memories and personalities _can_ be strongly influenced by genetics, though nothing is absolute and we took advantage of that."

Even upping survival rates by a few percent drastically reduced the number of troops needing replacement and/or medical care.

To the surprise of many in attendance, Force-wielders Urthula Shurken and Venera Sola joined the new clone.

"We have been training this new soldier for the fastest possible reflexes in order to best fight Dark Side users. She is mildly Force-sensitive, and…"

"I can talk about myself, you know" said the clone peevishly. "Valla-class, serial number DH-00001, heavy assault trooper, Force-sensitive with adjustable levels determined in-tank. Up to twice as durable as Miss Aerobics, Flips, and Sword-Swings over there."

Athena scowled. Those in attendance backed away, suspecting what would come next. That this was entirely intentional and part of the demonstration did not dawn on Athena until afterward, when she ended up pinned. Several hairline fractures of already-enhanced bones told the rest of the story. Whatever the geneticists had done with these new clones, they were a serious upgrade in terms of sheer power. That said, Athena was no pushover; she only got into trouble when "Valla" managed to grapple her. So long as she stayed out of the other woman's reach, Athena actually was winning through endurance alone. One mistake doomed her.

Polite applause broke out at the end, as if it were some refined sporting event rather than a brawl that called in cleanup droids to remove small amounts of blood.

"It is likely that both types of clone will be needed" interjected Cortana as she appeared at human size. "However, this greater diversity in force will allow our armies to be more effective."

Grayson met up with the two Mayas afterward. They also were benefitting from genetic fusion, and though it would take weeks combined with a Force-assisted transfer, the two would end up in a single body chronologically aged around thirty standard years. At least two of the weeks were required to map both women's neural states properly while a slightly-accelerated clone grew alongside. Another week to verify a pattern-merge and that the clone body took the imprint before waking the clone and terminating the original host bodies.

"This is weird" he muttered after leaving. Grayson sent a message to Shepard, whose reply was very short: "Welcome to the club."

Aware he might be pushing his luck, the Admiral nonetheless ordered a feasibility study to be done regarding "superdreadnaughts"—a hypothetical even larger than the Star Dreadnaught league in order to take on the presumed mass of Star Dreadnaughts the Council's New Navy doubtlessly possessed. He had to turn back to some truly ancient records to even get any ideas.

"At least it might get used this time" said Gaige somewhat petulantly after receiving the request which went to every person capable of naval architecture in the fleet. Her eyes bugged out viewing "EMP-44," the last of an "Emperor Palpatine's" monster mega-battleships. Using the _Eclipse-_ class as a baseline, of which historical record kept enough information to be worthwhile (17.5km long, superlaser, more firepower than any other ship of its class) Palpatine's designers came up with steadily-larger vessels culminating in EMP-44. At this scale, the typical dagger shape had been abandoned—it looked nothing like a Star Destroyer as Tali or Gaige had come to know them.

Cortana compared it to Forerunner (Eridian) _Fortress_ ships whose existence had been inferred through research done before her and the Chief's departure from their own universe. "Except" she'd noted, "this is far beyond in scale."

Even digistruction yards would have difficulties, to put it mildly, in handling a 250-kilometer design, and as Luke Skywalker wryly noted, "It's Imperial tech, so you could probably do twice as well with half the size." He went on to detail the improvements he'd seen in the New Republic and Galactic Federation Star Defenders—more than a match, more efficient, and ultimately better-engineered than their Imperial counterparts.

"I'm no naval designer, but anyone can look at the Yuuzhan Vong War and say the _Viscounts_ outdid their _Executor_ cousins against the invaders."

"Well, whatever it ends up being, our team will have a design study ready" insisted Tali.

The pair also worked with others to rebut questions of why these big ships couldn't simply be countered with a mass of much smaller, cheaper vessels or even fighter swarms.

"Over time, your firepower slackens off as the larger opponent picks off your weaker individual attackers while the enemy starship remains in the fight. Not a good bet!" explained Gaige.


	8. Reign of Vengeance

**Chapter 8 – Reign of Vengeance**

"Several of our digistruction facilities have gone dark, and I suspect it's because RISE has noticed what we're up to" opened Grayson at his briefing on plans to retake the Home Galaxy. "Of course, even if they took them all, we'd have a few weeks to run free before they could duplicate our strategy…"

"We may have more time than that" retorted Sarah. "Is there any evidence that our enemies have learned how to produce clones at high speed without quality compromises?"

"They are Force users, however, that means nothing as of now. It isn't as if they even noticed _Ultimatum_ was present, or indeed that we left" he replied.

"Never underestimate Darksiders" warned the Council of the Great Holocron. It did seem strange to have a large, dodecahedral object command a seat at the table as if it were a person, but considering the spotty nature of ancient history having someone (or something) around that could spit out more than interpretations of artifacts tended to be an asset. "Their ability to create the most complex, long-spanning, and sometimes ridiculous plans in search of one thing—power—is legendary for a reason."

Several audible sighs emerged upon Grayson's description of the Superdreadnaught Project.

"Must _everything_ be made larger all the time?" asked Samantha, clearly weary of the trend.

"First off, it's a design study!" he replied, miffed. "And second, yes. If we are going up against a whole fleet of Star Dreadnaughts, current technology dictates the best way to beat 'big' is with 'bigger,' not 'quantity' due to cost not being an issue."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Garrus. "You know, this design is far bigger than any facility we possess."

"But that's the cool part!" enthused Gaige. "See these lines?"

Two blaring red lines did indeed bisect the ship across its longest axis.

"We're going to finish each of the three pieces individually, then digistruct them together."

"Ordinarily" continued Tali, "that would be a huge structural weakness, but energy-to-matter conversion results in the same durability as if the whole ship were constructed using conventional methods."

"Which means that one captured yard can build the entire ship" finished Gaige.

"Much of the fleet is in position to defend this facility. We must keep it that way while we make our push to complete this vessel" ordered Grayson. "We've detached a good number of ships and clones to defend Delta, but we possess enough forces to take on the galaxy directly, even assuming our…less-than-stellar ratio of units lost versus superior foes."

"Design study, my ass" muttered Sam. "Men! Always making things bigger!"

[…]

For posterity's sake, many a holocam turned on for this battle of the titans. Striking from above, which also gave an excuse to crash through and recapture/destroy three facilities "below" that RISE/the Council took back, Grayson's massive fleet split into prongs, one for each target. Enemy ships possessed a range advantage over their synthetic-Tibanna-powered rivals, but had to contend with increased energy output at shorter distances.

Thousands of turbolasers lashed each target, causing shields to flare in reaction. Clouds of missiles slammed into both energy fields and armor, causing the former to drain and the latter to boil away. The downside of relying on massed troopships in combat became distressingly apparent as _Minerva_ after _Minerva_ was left dead in space, blasted to bits, or otherwise non-functional. A few hundred clones from each ship remained in the fight, having deployed in spaceworthy gunships, only to be set upon by swarms of _Punishers_ and other assault craft.

Exchanges between _Revenants_ tended to result in less instant death. The greater numbers under Grayson's command utilized their weapon power advantage to crush opposing ships. Superlasers were deemed too difficult to run on "synth-banna" but the overall greater output from amped-up synth-lasers ate into shields faster than the opposition could manage.

 _Normandy SR-2.5_ darted about, stinging enemy vessels at close range. The few Element Zero-based torpedoes still in her cargo holds worked wonders; even particle shields were not tuned to deflect gravitational modulations. Use of these devices against key systems (engines, command centers, reactors) began to turn the tide, as did copious amounts of Battle Meditation. Enemy ships broke and buckled under concentrations of weapons-fire aimed at areas only a few meters square. Force-wielders not participating (read: not Sarah) used their abilities to steer enemy fighters into each other, into their own capital ships, or into blasts of flak from _Revenant_ dreadnaughts.

"At the rate we're attritioning, we'll have lost a quarter of our troopships by the time we reach the galactic disk" calculated Admiral Grayson. "I wonder if they'll have noticed the detachment we sent 'out and around?'"

The battle lasted for many hours. Much to the horror of the defenders, they watched both their own and their opponent's destroyed ships be swallowed up by four gigantic vessels matching no known configuration. To make things even worse, said ships shrugged off or ignored being _blasted by superlasers_ that would've torn almost any other combatant apart.

"How is this possible?" demanded one commander before her ship too fell to the implacable enemy.

[...]

The greatest advantage of clones, as had been noted by many a strategist, came from their independent thought that no (mass-produced) war automaton yet matched in millions of years. Of course, even with genetic loyalty supposedly imprinted in, free thought could still pose problems for those expecting unwavering devotion from their copied soldiers: alternate interpretation of what said "loyalty" meant could lead to undesirable results. It was just this that lit up Scarlett DeWinter's comm.

"You can believe me or not" said a face DeWinter recognized, even though she knew it to not be the original. "The Council's New Navy is facing off against an extra-galactic enemy that seems intent on bringing it down. Strike now to sow confusion within their ranks!"

In theory, three squadrons of twelve ships each consisting of _Curator_ Mk-III could take on a single Star Dreadnaught. On paper. If perfectly managed. This was why DeWinter kept herself and her forces isolated in the Deep Core. She knew the rest of the Band had their own issues to deal with; some ingratiated themselves into less "official" positions that kept them out of the public eye (avoiding stain on the Council's reputation) while others reverted to their pre-compact selves (dealing in Class-I substances, slaves, etc).

The defining avatar of Council power, a gargantuan building heaped atop what were once the Senate chambers, would do nicely for a symbolic strike, she reasoned. Technically, as a former member of the Band who'd been hired by the Republic Intelligence Service, her access codes still worked. The actual people on hand were further fooled—"Yes ma'am" they said to her insistence she represented a "special reserve" in case the New Navy was fully engaged (as it currently was).

In position to "protect" the Citadel (the new seat of government), DeWinter's ships instead unloaded with every weapon at their disposal. HoloNet newscasts showed the tower's base softening under turbolaser strikes, then tipping over as the laws of physics asserted themselves. The planet's defenses reacted sluggishly, unable to fire on friendly IFFs without manual overrides. Consequently, only one Star Destroyer ended up wrecked while the rest escaped. To add insult, it fell out of orbit and smashed into the Citadel's remnants before detonating.

How well this went over depended on where one lived in the galaxy. The Outer Rim yawned (and some even called the incident terrorism). Coreward, however, much sympathy was had due to the Council's heavy-handed governance of "resource centers." Even then, it would be a difficult sell on this alone as citizens tired of ineffective government wondered whether a controlling state was the price to pay for "a bureaucracy that does something."

History buffs came to similar conclusions as admirals and Holocron-Jedi many lightyears away: for the first time in any recent memory, the pullers of the coup actually offered a legitimate improvement over the last state _without_ (apparently) going mad in the process. The Paradise Worlds reclaimed from a fading Flood only added to this image.

"I guess if anyone was expecting this revolution to be clean or easy, they're in for a big pile of disappointment" harrumphed DeWinter as her fleet raced away.

Coincidentally, many happy immigrants to "Paradise Worlds" built with digistruction and massive droids began to experience feelings of sickness.


	9. Bigger Fish, Bigger Stick

**Chapter 9 – Bigger Fish, Bigger Stick**

Admiral Adam Grayson stood in his red-hued ready room. The notion that he could blast his way through a determined defense ran into the reality of trying to both coordinate millions of ships and deal with enemies as committed to stopping him as he was to moving forward. Sure, _Minervas_ and Star Dreadnaughts sent in an "out-and-around" course managed to elude most of the fleet he hit head-on, but then old-fashioned politics got in the way.

"Well yeah, nobody likes Darksiders, but they haven't done anything to us" came the response from most Outer Rim planets offered "protection and defense" forces. The few that accepted them ended up regretting it as Council forces engaged in vicious combat with their new guardians—bombarding the planet as equally as they fired against the outside ships.

Rumors swirled of a disease striking people who'd relocated (or returned) to "Paradise Worlds" reclaimed from the Flood. The government assured all was well, but it represented the first suspicious thing anyone heard regarding the "New Future" everyone had been promised.

"Given that this galaxy's government is about as topsy-turvy as a youngling's ride, that the honeymoon period is over this soon is hardly shocking" opined an editorial for the Galaxy News Service. If it were Nova Network or some other trashy tabloid, nothing would've come of it. But throughout the eons, GNS represented the best in journalism—much to the annoyance of various corrupt business and government types who would rather have their dirty laundry go unaired.

The resulting conflict left Grayson's forces moving forward, but far too slowly and taking too many casualties. They'd win battles only to lose the war by attrition. He answered a call to his personal comm from the group of Force-users who'd been helping to power his push.

"I may be the newest kid on the block" growled Armando Bailey, "but even I can tell when something's wrong with these weird powers I seem to have. And something's very, very wrong."

"Our powers are blunted" continued Sarah. "The fight we just had would not have been nearly so difficult; it is as though we operate in a fog, unable to see exactly what is going on around us."

She produced the Great Holocron from her robes.

"Seen stranger things, I have not. Diminished, the Force is. Disturbed."

"Master Yoda is correct, though as to why, none of us can tell" said Luke Skywalker. "Even Tionne cannot find any historical record of such occurrences."

"If you ask me" interrupted Zera Zelit, "I feel like I'm swimming in oil. It isn't just the rage and hatred of the Dark Side, it's worse."

 _Ultimatum_ slipspaced out immeasurably quickly, again, to where the month-long task of constructing the design-study, now _Colossus,_ was taking place.

He summoned the architectural team and those who'd been instrumental in fighting the war to this point. About to ask for a status report, Grayson found himself interrupted by proximity alarms.

"Trial by fire it is, then!"

All 87km of _Colossus_ had been given the once-over, the three-part ship attaching itself at precise locations after which digistruction would finish the rest as only the outer hull had been completed around the portions to be joined—several meters inside each section were "short" to avoid having everything at nanometer tolerances. For instance, digistruction connected deck plating across chasms, or completed power conduits which were then rerouted. As a result of this semi-modular construction, _Colossus_ possessed redundant systems almost everywhere, save one thing: its massive internally-mounted slipspace machinery. The drive and its attendant gadgetry took up a volume almost equal to a whole _Revenant_ , and that wasn't counting reactors to drive it!

Such a vessel required a gargantuan bank of engines, which all pushed at once. No more "steering only" propulsion systems, though some mid-mounted units identical to the main "pushers" were arranged in groups on each side, aiding in turning _and_ accelerating. Experimental weapons were incorporated willy-nilly. Starship-scale explosive flechettes, artificial Eridium-crystal-focused turbolasers which entirely compensated for the loss of range from synthetic Tibanna without requiring reactor overdrive, and even three superlaser-analogs derived from _Farsight_.

Internal digistruction bays, not incorporated into _Revenants_ "to save time," let _Colossus_ spew out an army and navy entirely on its own. Though this used an immense amount of energy, its reactor was more than capable of sustaining such production, producing more energy every second than some supernova bursts. In the event primary power proved insufficient, a good volley of enemy fire topped up special capacitors connected to its shield grid, marking the first large-scale deployment of energy-absorbing shields that were initially fitted to _Normandy SR-2.5_ years ago by none other than the Republic Intelligence Service.

"For once, we didn't build that" laughed Gaige when asked later. "There are other engineering teams, you know!"

Boarding parties attempted to use cloaked craft to sneak aboard the drydock which produced _Colossus._ While they were able to approach without facing naval resistance, the resulting internal conflict would go down as the successful introduction of "Valla"-class clones derived, again, from RISE's own designs. Initially, lighter and faster Athena clones attempted to hold back "purge troopers," but they were quickly cut down no matter their numbers.

"Hm. Upgrades" muttered Grayson, observing yet another slaughter on a bank of vidscreens.

A squad of the heavier Valla clones marched in over the bodies of their comrades.

"They fall like leaves. We are wroshyr trees!" bellowed the leader.

Endowed with a counter to every technique hardcoded into Venus Assage's "children," "Josann" and her fellow clones utterly dominated their opponents. Grayson watched as one shrugged off a lightsaber swing, turned about, and grabbed her opponent by the neck. Spidering cracks, a sickening crunch, and a headless clone dropped to the deck while her helmet (presumably including head) flew in another direction.

One of his clones struggled to breathe from being gripped by what had been described as "Force Choke" while being scored by Force Lightning. The air itself seemed to move like a sonic boom as she pushed her opponent back and her sisters piled onto the attacker, not seeming to care if they used fists, mass-manufactured lightsabers, or other instruments of destruction to take down their enemy. Another disappeared in a flash of light—disruptor fire. Its source pinpointed, three held their arms out. Energized pulses emitted from two cannons per limb, peppering the sniper with green death at thousands of rounds per minute. Her lightsaber could not block them all, and her armor scorched from dozens of impacts. Despite their bulk, these new clones possessed at least two-thirds of their predecessors' agility, leaping up to the fallen aggressor. A wet splat over audio told the Admiral all he needed to know about that particular enemy's fate.

"I enjoyed that" said Josann with relish. Unlike the insanity brought on by Xytler's JumpPaks, however, the Vallas actually experienced the opposite. Any time sensors detected their lust for blood rising to predetermined levels, they were dosed with an appropriate amount of DS-PLNE, a sort of hyper-depressant drug that acted to push them back into a state of calm. Repeated tests showed no reduction of effectiveness after a twenty simulated deployments. Besides, any clone with that long a service record would automatically be retired anyway. That was almost three times the "lucky seven" that granted an Athena-class troop similar treatment, but the Vallas' greater survivability meant consummately longer tours of duty.

The Admiral found himself interrupted by an urgent comm.

"What would Sarah want in the middle of a battle? Isn't she supposed to be boosting us?"


	10. In a Mirror, Darkly

**Chapter 10 – In a Mirror, Darkly**

Sarah sat in a position of meditation. As she'd done in past conflicts where her strength was not required for individual battles, she instead passively increased the power of her own side while damping their opponents' will to fight. This activity found itself interrupted as several beings appeared out of thin air (or so it seemed).

The Siren did a backflip to avoid blasts of Force Lightning that turned the cushion she sat on to ash. She could immediately sense something different about these attackers—far more focused, better-trained, and thus more dangerous than those she'd powered through before. Their precision coordination left her spending as much time dodging (or regrowing lost limbs) as making strikes of her own. Her purple blade whirled about in one hand as the other busied itself with deflecting Force Lightning, either sending it back to its source or tucking it away through means understood only by the most advanced Jedi or Sith. Blade locked against blade, the trademark squealing assaulting all ears. Another of the three dove at Sarah, so she used the Force to "walk" up and around as if following the contours of some exercise wheel, bringing herself back down to plant a solid kick to the back of that clone's head while maintaining her saber-lock with the first.

A piece of furniture crashed into her, hurled by the last clone not occupied in the immediate brawl.

"Flanders will have a field day" she muttered as a thrown table cleaved in half from her reactionary swing. The number of useless Siren-limbs eclipsed five as she lost another leg. She actually looked down at this point—a small puff of purple something appeared as her leg regrew.

She recalled the abilities she'd manifested when, as the Holcron told her, she'd "given in to anger"—she could flatten all three of these opponents in seconds but at what cost?

 _The longer I keep them here, however they got here, the less damage they can do to the rest of the ship._

She remembered the horribly deformed Viado Sepsom and his fellow "Vongspawn" who she'd provided some level of sustenance for via supplies pulled from wrecked Star Destroyer. These and other acts drove the Jedi "Council's" determination that (Master Shim aside) she could at least redeem herself. Her desire to defend others notwithstanding, these clones were sent with the single mission of killing her, so wherever Sarah went they would follow.

 _A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense. Never for attack!_

The little green one, Yoda, had told her this. She pushed back, stunning all three opponents briefly by crushing them into walls. That was enough to incapacitate one long enough to blast them (though her Force "Lightning" changed to green for reasons she could not determine) while leaving the other two chasing their fallen lightsabers. Quick recoveries, but not quick enough. One clone lost her saber-hand, the other cried out as Force Speed let Sarah dash to her and crush ankles, immobilizing her. A wave of her hand set two unconscious, leaving only the clone who'd been hit with lightning.

"Out with it!"

Sarah yanked the clone's helmet off. Eyes sunken, yellow, dead. Skin the color of spoiled milk, sagging and wrinkled. Teeth that through some process had a closer resemblance to fangs than would be expected.

"No."

The temptation again rose to call on both Siren and Force powers to bludgeon this woman's mind, compel her to reveal information. Her dealings with Flanders, Jackie, Shepard, and others pushed back.

 _I will not sink to such levels._ Instead, she opted for the "Shepard route."

"You're not like the other clones."

"Of course not!" replied the nameless soldier. "They were inferior, they were slow, they were weak. Only we were chosen!"

"For?"

" _The solemn duty to put a blade through your back!_ "

"You're not very good at it. None of you are. Your masters must be most displeased."

"That won't matter!" rasped her foe. "By the time they harvest all the Paradise Worlds, we'll be more powerful than you ever could hope to be!"

"Thanks for the hint!"

The last clone dropped unconscious.

"Well, that proved annoyingly prophetic" said Luke Skywalker irritably as Sarah described her short interaction with RISE clone troopers (who she'd shoved in a cargo container before dumping them into space). "Emperor Palpatine did that with one planet. Looks like these guys are taking it to an extreme."

"But is what they are saying true?" wondered Sarah. "Can they become stronger in the Force?"

"If history is any guide, regrettably, yes" expounded Tionne Solusar. 

"And if they do, what then?"

"You, as one of the few who wields the Force, will have to defend this ship, its crew, and your friends" answered Luke simply.

[…]

Admiral Grayson, after hearing Sarah's report regarding the potential for turning the galaxy against the proponents of this "New Future," elected for careful application of overwhelming force (again).

"At least we won't have to wait very long to get where we're going."

He picked a Paradise World in the Outer Rim, taking Sarah and _Ultimatum_ (as _Colossus_ 's firepower was needed to win the current battle).

"So long as we don't need the superlaser, we should be fine" he noted in his Admiral's log. The ruins of said weapon had been yanked out to accommodate a massive slipspace drive. Keeping the drive "warmed up"—that is, in its default ready-to-go state, would have probably precluded using the superlaser anyway. Dwindling hypermatter reserves meant the only asset the dreadnaught offered came from speed, and even that could be debated since too many jumps would leave her without much power to do anything.

"This place is alive with the Dark Side" said Sarah flatly upon arrival. "It is subtle, but growing. Whatever is going on here cannot be advantageous to us."

The Siren seethed with energy. Even though Grayson had no sensitivity to the Force, he could feel it—she wanted a fight.

"We're not going in guns blazing. I'd rather find out what's going on first." Turning, he spoke to Tactical. "Is our stealth enabled?"

"Yes sir" came the reply. "Unless they have slipspace sensors, they're just going to see the stellar anomaly of the week, not our ship."

"Deploy a _Vorknkx_ , get us some intel!"

Receiving transmissions from a spy ship didn't cause nearly as much of a sensor blip as turning up all of the battleship's active suites would have, hence Grayson's choice. Said transmissions reminded Grayson of the Flood, except not. He saw many Humans through high-resolution sensors mounted on a ship that could probably read a datapad in someone's pocket through clouds from high orbit with a cloaking device on. These people shuffled about mindlessly, their postures identical with arms hanging loosely by their sides and blank expressions on their faces.

"Well, that isn't nor…"

He whipped about in search of Sarah and her Holocron, but couldn't find either. The Admiral figured she'd gone off to do some Jedi- or Force-related thing and he needn't worry—until his _Vorknkx_ sent up images of what was unmistakably Sarah on the planet's surface.

"And why is she down there?" he fumed. "Also, how?"

"Whatever they have done is completely unnatural" she said via hologram. "They're leeching life energies from… I don't know where they are, but it's nowhere near here. It's a whole _network_ using some kind of crystals to focus the Dark Side, if the spirits of the Holocron are to be believed."

"They haven't steered us wrong so far. Now, please tell me…"

A blinking light indicated top-level, Alpha-One classified communication intended for the Admiral only. He put Sarah on hold.

"You need to see this."

Samantha Shepard, aboard her similarly-named starship, transmitted data from Capek.

"We were going to Base Delta Zero the place, but our sensors picked up residual energy signatures. We sent a team down. For _once_ , it's _all good news_! The Flood kept as specimens were either put down or frozen. The science teams are still alive, though they're in cryostasis and we're working to thaw them out. And, technically this qualifies as bad news, but the scientists did not manage to find either a cure or weapon against the Flood, despite lots of effort."

"Good work, Shepard. We have a big problem on this end, so you'll have to excuse me, as I should go tend to it."

Grayson switched back to Sarah's channel, only to see nothing. He couldn't raise _Lookout's Nest_ either, though the ship did seem to be making a move to leave orbit.

" _Lookout's Nest_ , this is Admiral Grayson. Report!"

No response.

" _Lookout's Nest_ , stop all engines and stand by to receive boarding parties! That's an order!"

"Whoever has that ship is doing something to its engines. The readings make no sense—if it engages hyperdrive now it will be closer to zero-zero-one than any hyperdrive I've seen!"

"Zero-zero-one" was so hypothetical no agreement existed on precisely how fast that would be. For millions of years, scientists had tried to find a way to make such fast travel technologically feasible, if not affordable or practical. And for millions of years, every experiment failed. Often explosively. This caused the "technological plateau" above which hyperspace-based FTL could not seem to rise.

"I assume it's too late to try a tractor beam."

"You are correct, sir. However, we've plotted its course and you won't believe where that thing is headed…"


	11. Old, Forgotten, Far-Off Things

**Chapter 11 – Old, Forgotten, Far-Off Things**

Sarah didn't care if the whole ship reeked. It wasn't like anyone would experience it, as the entire crew now lay unconscious (though unharmed save a few minor injuries). Interacting with the Artusian Crystals (as they'd been labeled) put the Siren on the other end of a treatment she'd so often given to others.

At first, Sarah only saw vague images, shapes. She'd been taught to use the Force to seek information, and did so, sensing the crystals' inherent connection to that energy field. However, a trained Jedi would not have been so obvious—of course, that would have required knowing that someone else was watching in the first place. About to disengage, she found herself pulled in much the same way she'd forced Jackie to relieve the worst of her own memories.

Unlike Jackie, Sarah lacked the emotional depth to be disturbed by being pushed through her own suffering, even as she recalled her "punishment" for performing as intended. Also unlike Jackie, her raw power allowed the Siren to break free within what felt like only a few moments. She now had a sense of exactly who'd been pulling the strings all this time—they were few, but powerful. Very powerful, yet also extremely patient. However, her emergence threw a spanner in the works and thus they sought to remove this single impediment. They were mere voices, but carried the power of the Dark Side, commanding her to face them.

Strangely, even as Sarah felt their minds implanting instructions, she wasn't so sure she wouldn't go to their murky fortress, smash it down, and slay them of her own volition. If these were responsible for the Republic Intelligence Service and its subsequent Council on the Establishment of the New Future, based on everything she'd tried to learn, she would be hailed as a hero (or at least no longer called a villain) if she ended up exposing them. Bringing about their destruction might ultimately clear her image, something she finally allowed herself to admit that she wanted.

 _Use your anger… Face us in combat! Strike us down, and take our place! Only the strongest shall rule this galaxy._

The Siren let these words echo in her head over, and over, and over. She knew exactly what the Great Holocron would say if she turned it on.

"Prepared for this, you are not. Dangerous, this is!"

"You are headed down a very dangerous path, one which few, especially those with your level of raw potential, have survived."

"I don't care!" she bellowed aloud at the Holocron, silent in her hand. "I'm the only one who knows the truth. I have to do this."

A voice at the back of her head suggested she could, for instance, _warn everyone else_ about this threat instead of facing it alone.

"No. They are not strong enough. They would be like the zombies I just saw. Useless in a fight! They wouldn't even remember who they were!"

Her ship reverted back to realspace. Proximity alerts blared—it was already too late. Sarah had overridden safeties that prevented coming out of hyperspace close to a planet. Because of this, her stolen vessel smashed headlong into a derelict cruiser seconds after dropping down from superluminal velocities. Not that it mattered for her, being a Siren, Force user, and who knew what else given Eridian bio-engineering. The rest of the crew was not so fortunate.

The Great Holocron floated free in zero gravity. She snared it, assuming a typical meditative pose even as what remained of _Lookout's Nest_ 's bridge shifted beneath her. That some would judge her actions harshly bothered Sarah less now, especially since the most stringent judge (a Master Tolaris Shim) drew the ire of even her fellows—so much so they denied her a seat on the Holocron's Council.

The Siren both thought and spoke aloud.

 _I have ended innocent lives today in the service of a greater mission. Whether that passes muster with my allies will only be answered later. I take no joy in this, nor do I dismiss what I have done purely on the grounds that the strong have this as their birthright. But that I try to do good, remain pure of motive, that will have to be enough for me._

Sarah pushed through destroyed windows, assuming a diver's pose.

"Let's hope I'm not naked by the time I land."

 _Ultimatum_ arrived just in time to detect a massive energy surge as a _something_ impacted the target planet.

"This place is off-limits!" Grayson couldn't believe where he was—here at "Slimeball," also known as the incursion point of the Flood (or as it was called then, the "Infection"). Not only did extragalactic invaders first show up here, the planet long ago lost most of its life to some kind of engineered bioweapon whose effects lingered to the present, making visits hazardous.

"Whatever it was, sir, we lost it. It appears to have submerged."

Grayson narrowed his eyes. That ocean wasn't marked "Near-Immediate Hazard of Death" for nothing. Who- or whatever dived straight into it either had the means to ignore something that rated almost perfectly lethal or was simply unaware of the danger (which he found hard to believe).

"Where's the ship?"

A viewscreen answered the Admiral's question. Spinning lazily, what was left of _Lookout's Nest_ bumped gently against what looked like a _Prosecutor_.

"If the Trans-Galactic Republic didn't view the Flood as a threat at first…of course! They would have sent low-value ships to investigate…"

He assumed this had to have been Sarah. She disappeared, popped up on the surface of the Paradise World, sent a cryptic warning, and then a ship reached unheard-of velocities. His predecessor had made a quip in her personal logs about Sarah's apparent "ability to increase the speed of a starship's engines," the ship in question being a _Punisher_ heavy fighter the Siren had borrowed.

Comms from his other Force-users confirmed Grayson's suspicions.

"We sense her. Even Bailey, who has no love lost for Sarah, can feel her presence."

"Any idea what she's doing here?" he asked. "Seems strange that she'd hijack a ship with no explanation after behaving so well for so long…"

"Unless it was something really, really big" countered Bailey. "I'm not one to make excuses, but when I was in C-Sec, I worked with a lot of informants. Some of them genuinely wanted to atone for their crimes by taking down others doing similar or worse things. Hell, they were even called 'angel wannabe' in their files—so when one of these guys failed to report in, we took it seriously. I wonder if she's on a similar vibe?"

"She took the Great Holocron" complained Zera. "Having it might have given us some theories."

It turned out no theories were needed as Sensors frantically cast about for the Admiral's attention.

He stared at his viewscreen for a solid fifteen seconds before remarking "Well, we are going to need much bigger guns…"


	12. The Very Definite Final Dungeon

**Chapter 12 – The Very Definite Final Dungeon**

"Do darksiders always have huge ships?" harrumphed Admiral Grayson on a fleet channel. True, he commanded a rather large vessel of his own, but it seemed someone always sought to one-up him. Whatever lurked just below the ocean surface was making no attempt to hide itself, nor blast into orbit. A foolish tactic leaving it open to a massive bombardment from _Ultimatum_ —which he delivered without a second thought. Of course, it shrugged off the first wave of fire like an extinct whaladon might ignore an underequipped poacher, suggesting whoever placed it there expected this response.

"How do I know I'm doing this of my own volition?" he wondered.

Far below, Sarah dragged herself out of the muck that choked…wherever she was. These Darksiders needed one thing: the business end of her lightsaber. Little did she know she'd passed through some of the same tunnels and accessways as one David Vance on his way to see these very same people—"see" being a relative word (at least in his case).

"Puh. Pfft!"

Whatever she'd just crashed into and swam through, it wasn't ordinary water. Ordinary water was not this thick. Sarah also noticed a faint purple haze emanating from herself, for whatever reason. She hadn't used any ability which was known to cause such an effect, so she decided to ignore it. Still, the Siren had to admit to being pleased her robes survived the fiery descent from high orbit without so much as a singe.

Not ordinarily one to care about aesthetics, Sarah was nonetheless curious as to the very high ceilings, arches, pillars, and excessively large spaces that resembled the place in which she had once been held.

"I can only hope these people do not possess duplicate versions of me, or something similar."

Sarah knew she likely walked straight into a trap—they'd tried to compel her presence here. She didn't care. Whether it took minutes or hours, the Siren explored whatever this place was, finally arriving at a door that led into a chamber which contained yet another (but smaller) domed structure. She'd gotten so used to the stench caused by certain abilities she only noticed the unnatural red glow.

 _Give in to your anger—and save your friends._

She now had a small understanding of how irritating it was to have someone else in your head all the time.

 _If you do not kill us, we will kill them._

"Then the logical course of action is that either I walk out of here, or you do."

She stepped into the last atrium.

At least a dozen tanks like the ones used to create clones of Athena stood in the middle. Shock registered as she processed the visual before her: Samantha Shepard trapped and partially consumed by the Flood. A decayed, rotted corpse of Drythlyn Narb—also infested.

 _You failed me. You failed us!_

"This isn't real. This can't be real."

A holographic projection depicted a _Revenant-_ class Star Dreadnaught wilting under the firepower of both Flood and apparently Trans-Galactic Republic starships. Now Sam's voice haunted her.

 _Please…. Release me from this torment!_

Sarah thought quickly. If this wasn't real, she could only conclude these Force-bearers were even more powerful than her and bent on using the Dark Side—in which case they needed to die. If it _was_ real, whoever caused it controlled the Flood. Which still led to the conclusion that they needed to die. Her lightsaber ignited, mixing purple with red.

Two hooded figures moved swiftly toward her, red lightsabers drawn.

 _What is it with nasty people and red?_ Half a second later, she realized more than one person might ask **her** about this.

 _This is where I prove them wrong!_

Sweeping slash to lock blades with the first phantom. Flip feet-over-head to dodge the second's own swipe. She shrugged off a blast of lightning from the first.

 _This is only a delay. Your friends will die._

Sarah's motions quickened, bringing more force to bear. Those who described her as "Amazonian" would find their description vindicated—a strike so powerful her opponent stumbled backward. Teeth gritted. The anger she'd experienced upon finding the Eridians violating their own most sacred covenant began to bubble.

 _Good. The hatred is swelling within you._

Lightsabers made the strangest sound passing through air. As the Siren's opponent recoiled for a reason she couldn't determine at first, her blade found its mark by cutting into its side, leaving a torso and legs on the floor. One massive stomp later, whatever it was no longer had anything resembling a head, either. To drive the point home, a downward stab into the torso.

 _Your anger makes you powerful! Join us!_

More of…whatever these were. She sliced, slashed, blocked, ducked, and leapt. Once, she even bounced off a head, though to her dismay it wasn't enough to pulverize, only send sprawling to the floor.

 _I will destroy these terrors, and beat them at their own game!_

Surrounded by at least five now, Sarah's lightsaber work became frantic. Unable to deliver blows with the same strength as before, she was reduced to near-perfect defense (she only lost one arm) but she couldn't hit hard enough to smash through the defenses of those attacking. Increasingly frustrated, she started blasting with lightning, something the Great Holocron warned against, but she felt under the circumstances it would be acceptable. The bolts came out blue, an indication that they were not the benign imitation Master Skywalker spoke of using at times.

Sarah began to feel something a certain other Siren had known all too well—the vicious pleasure that could come from combat were one to allow it. The weak, pathetic _thing_ writhed on the floor.

"I am disappointed!" she roared. "You do not make any sound! Scream for me!"

Her other hand caught a second of the apparitions and let loose on it.

Another voice interrupted her thoughts.

 _Hey kiddo, you don't wanna go there. Trust me on this._

"Shut up!" she screeched, not recognizing the voice nor caring. Reveling in her advantage, Sarah failed to notice her second target actively capturing the energy pouring forth from her palms until it exploded, blasting her backward into the circle of tanks at the room's center.

Pain. Lots of it. Unable to focus, the Siren found herself lifted by the neck.

 _Only rage gives you strength. Only hatred will save you!_ taunted the voices. That very feeling Sarah unleashed on others now hit her—the feeling of being unable to breathe, choking, gasping. Her fists balled until knuckles cracked. She might or might not have crushed her own lightsaber hilt; regardless it now lay sparking on the floor. Maybe it was imagination, but the lack of air seemed to abate, if only for a few seconds before returning, worse than before. Now fear set in. A more visceral, immediate fear. Failing the mission against the Flood was irksome and yes, did lead her to question the reason she existed. But Sarah never doubted her ability to _continue_ existing the way she did now. Red clouded her vision, and she felt herself slipping away.

 _No! How can this be?_

A tunnel of light, then a face framed in it. Pale skin, red (maybe? Pain made it hard to tell) hair.

"If you cross over because of this, I'm gonna kick your ass so hard you'll wish you were back where you started. Let it go, Sarah."

"Becoming one with the Force is difficult" Tionne lectured. "Master Skywalker has done it, as have a few others throughout history. It's not clear how this happens—the dark and the light have both accomplished this feat. But when it does occur, it grants unimaginable power."

She didn't understand what it meant then, and still didn't fully grasp it now. But Sarah knew to continue fighting against these monsters would only lead to her own death, an almost unimaginable conclusion anywhere else. At least fighting using their own weapons—hatred, fear, aggression.

 _The dark side are they_ insisted the little green one called Yoda.

So she relaxed. She stopped pushing back, stopped contesting her own life.

 _If this is the end, then, so be it._

The suffocating feeling ended abruptly, like a nightmare. Sarah could feel the surprise of her tormenters. They could not understand how she'd slipped out from under their choking hands.

 _Why won't you die?_ demanded the voices. Now _they_ were angry, confused, and fearful. Now they were the ones whose presence lit up like beacons. Right in front of her.

Three new combatants entered the arena. Maya, Garrus, and…Jackie?

All wielded red lightsabers, and they all attacked at once.

 _Jackie's never used a lightsaber. This has to be an illusion._

A flying tackle left her manhandled by Maya and Garrus while Jackie stood triumphantly over her.

"You made me suffer, now reap your reward. Bitch."

 _I wronged you in the past, but you aren't this person anymore. You accomplished acceptance and maybe even redemption that I never could—hence my jealousy. The real you would never do this._

Jackie's between-the-legs attempt to cut Sarah in half succeeded, only for the stricken Siren to laugh it off. The saber passed straight through, all while doing nothing. Hands holding her down became translucent and Sarah stood, passing right through all three of them. She wanted their weapons. She _needed_ their weapons. The sabers were real, whether their wielders were or not, and they snapped into her hands before the shocked faces of whatever "Garrus" and company actually were. Blood blades pulled back and were replaced with blinding white. Holding all three in one hand, she casually tossed them in the direction of "Shepard's" cylinder.

 _Betrayer! Judas!_

Sarah allowed herself to smile, or even smirk.

"Not this time."

The tank shattered. The false Shepard disappeared into black mist that whirled around the room.

 _If we can't have this galaxy, we will at least have_ _ **you!**_

She shut her mouth to no avail as it aimed itself at her face. A peculiar feeling came over the Siren—then a puff of red enveloped her for a few seconds before dissipating. Three whirling white lances diced the remaining tanks, cutting straight, diagonally, whatever angle Sarah felt like employing. Each stricken tank produced another black specter. Now, they swirled about, circling as predator did prey.

"I am not the prey here" she declared. Seated in a meditative pose, Sarah ignored rushing water. She ignored the closing black mist, and concentrated instead on the lightsabers. They whirled about in some kind of deadly cone, shielding her from any approach. One ghost moved forward, only to spark, sputter, screech, and disappear. Their fear gave her power now. Not because she enjoyed it, or fed off it ("That will screw you up so bad…" said the voice as her thoughts crossed this notion), but because now she knew she was winning. It almost seemed like the sabers were deliberately slow in seeking out the ten remaining shades, but each met its end in due time.

Water swirled, but Sarah didn't care. Using the Force, she whipped up a whirlpool that hurled her to the surface and beyond. Grinning mischievously, she aimed herself at a very specific point in space.


	13. Playtime's Over, Get Back to Work!

**Chapter 13 – Playtime's Over, Get Back to Work!**

Adam Grayson would receive answers to most of his questions from a rather unexpected source. While watching his ship futilely lash the behemoth hidden beneath oceans of a forbidden planet, he jerked back in surprise as someone materialized inside his heavily fortified Force Coordination Center.

"I think our problems should be smaller now."

The Admiral pursed his lips and tilted his head in an "Oh yeah? Prove it" sort of way. Instead, he simply asked for a mission report, which he got only after Sarah personally located Samantha Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, Jackie Jakobs, and Maya using a combination of _Ultimatum_ 's internal systems and quantum communicators.

"Why is there only one Maya?" demanded Sarah.

"Finish telling me what the hell just happened, and I'll get to that" he shot back.

After hearing everything Sarah had to say, Grayson looked at his sensors and out the (remaining) bridge windows. Whatever he'd been shooting at—gone!

"My guess is a Force illusion" suggested the Siren. "Let's see what the all-knowing Council of Blue People has to say…"

She set the Great Holocron on a nearby console.

"An illusion that complete, fooling millions of people into seeing something nonexistent even on sensors—I find that hard to believe" hedged Luke Skywalker. "But given the levels that these Darksiders went to…"

Only minutes after Sarah's dynamic entrance, _Colossus_ indicated its fight suddenly became easier.

"The enemy has lost coordination. Maneuvers are clumsy, focus is weak, and they are easily feinted into terrible positioning that leaves us with the advantage."

Two _Revenants_ faked drive core malfunctions, drawing in a bevy of hostile vessels as they "limped" away. To add, both ships fired up their hyperdrives knowing full well fighting against a massive interdiction field by disabling drive safeties would actually destroy their FTL systems (in a controlled fashion, of course). Short, failed jumps took them just far enough for their enemies to microjump on top of them by taking advantage of directional interdiction fields that could leave narrow corridors open on-demand. That interdiction fields had zero impact on slipspace drives wasn't something these pursuers were aware of as _Colossus_ materialized underneath them. Seconds later, its massed firepower tore them to ribbons.

Indications of galactic change appeared more directly when crystalline "monuments" heralded as some kind of high-efficiency light-to-energy system on every Paradise World exploded. Following were a flood of confused holos from people living on these worlds, a sampling of which included:

"I remember arriving, but that was… _ten weeks ago?"_

"Why is my dwelling so bland? I could swear I brought—I what? I most certainly did not throw out my prized collection of…"

"My conservator is full of boring nutrient paste. Why?"

"You have not logged into Galaxy of Fantasy for how long? What do you mean my account went dormant?"

The crux of it revolved around a large number of confused people who were missing memories surrounding not-insignificant periods of their lives, suspiciously correlating with arrival on a "Paradise World." Examinations revealed nothing abnormal, though due to the destruction of all crystals on these planets the inability to compare meant that whatever "abnormal" occurred could not be measured.

"I guess that raises the question of 'How quickly can the government be reset, _again_ '" said Grayson to his fleet. "I'm not one for military governments—but it's also pretty clear the existing system is horrendously easy to subvert…"

[…]

Scarlett DeWinter's squadrons of Star Destroyers, unbeknownst to her, were some of very few that hadn't gotten involved in brawls with outsiders. She'd kept her fleet at a minimum level of readiness, acutely aware she likely had no allies and would thus encounter difficulties resupplying. Unlike the other members of the now-shattered Band, at least seven in ten of her crew remained when offered the choice between staying without pay (since RISE quit topping up RedLine's accounts) and being "free to go wherever these shuttles can take you."

"You must attract a different type of smuggler, ma'am" said one of her Captains in a conference. She'd called it to make them aware of dwindling supplies, but also a possible way out.

"You were all under the impression I silenced our HoloNet emitters for safety—and I did. However, what you may not have known is that our ships are among the few that still have Trans-Galactic Republic transponder codes. This makes us a target, but also gives us a trump card: The outsiders appear to be, at a minimum, not friendly to the collapsing Council on the Establishment of the New Future. Who so capriciously wrote over virtually every ship's IFF system to show who was in charge. Now, their failure to overwrite ours may lend us some credibility."

A static projection appeared of Admiral Adam Grayson.

"He's an old warhorse, back from the days before Spacelane Protection lost its military roots and was turned into a defense force. Amazing how quickly things change when politicians want to actually do something, especially around election season" she snorted. "He's also a fair-minded man. If these images are to be believed, I'd rather him than some of his contemporaries be in charge of a ship this size."

Images of a vessel "at least seventy kilometers" long caused a lively debate amongst her captains.

"It doesn't matter how big it is!" she interjected forcefully. "What matters is who commands it. There are frequencies that certain individuals within Spacelane Protection told me to use as an absolute last resort—they're low-power signals that only people who knew what to look for would distinguish from random background noise. I've been transmitting these covert messages, and we have received a reply."

"This is Captain Gustav Brinkman standing in for Admiral Adam Grayson of _Colossus_. State your business and rationale for using a restricted channel."

The recording played back. DeWinter did exactly as asked. While the law-and-order Brinkman didn't like smugglers, even "smiling" ones like herself he knew not to create unnecessary enemies.

"We will supply your fleet and hold you to your word. You may expect our arrival when the Admiral returns from his mission elsewhere."

"That return should be…"

The older woman looked at her chronometer.

"…about now."

In a flash, the great bulk of a Star Dreadnaught materialized from nowhere with no visible hyperspace reversion or even hints of "hyper-zero." Captain chatter resumed, this time about the newcomer's nonstandard design compared to other _Revenant_ -class ships.

"This is Admiral Grayson to irregular fleet. Report in…"


	14. Hash It Out

**Chapter 14 – Hash It Out**

Those present at what was billed as the "Reforging" figured the ten-and-then-some galaxies would keep spinning while the whole "who's in charge here" issue got worked out. Admiral Grayson once again found himself forced to push aside excessive praise aimed his way, in a repeat of the Reaper War.

"This effort was monumental—more than any one person, ship, fleet, technology, or galaxy. We have faced more setbacks than anyone cares to count, but what matters is that we stand over the ashes of the Flood and have sent the darkness which waited millions of years to surface back to the black hole it crawled out of."

"But certainly you did what the Trans-Galactic Republic promised to do. You brought back its lost honor" insisted Lassiter Vanukar.

"If merely doing what is expected qualifies as honor, then we have fallen far indeed" replied Grayson. "Which is why I have convened this summit. Here, I propose we work out a framework to either reforge the Trans-Galactic Republic or, perhaps, we find it best to go our separate ways."

Leaders of most significant galaxies plus two from the Gamma group previously not part of any union attended via whatever means were practical—meaning lots of holograms. Hackett, Shepard, Victus, Tali'Zorah, Urdnot Wrex, a thawed-out Padok Wiks, and a much-humbled Tevos represented their area of space. Since the home of Jakobs, Maliwan, etc. had no central government, those who fought the war claimed the "spoils" of seats at the table. Representing were Moxxi, Jackie, the Maliwans, Ronald Dahl, and one Siren named Maya.

"Some kind of genetic fusion" she explained. "Cortana used World Engines to restore genetic backups she'd made as part of that 'Nova Vita' project—that technology included the ability to put the both of us into one younger, healthy body. No, I don't have a split personality."

"I will not have, and I will not accept, military control of the government" began Grayson flatly. Steven Hackett concurred on behalf of his galaxy.

"We're already working on a new system. It won't be as compact—and the politics will be ugly. However, we've all agreed that arguing over how to design a proper legislature is far better than three or four people deciding the fate of tens of trillions."

"Our home government is, while corrupt, functional" replied Grayson. "We've had a unicameral Senate since time immaterial—at least when a democracy has held power at any rate. We will continue with that pattern, though I strongly suspect there will be major restructuring."

"I will admit" sighed Damien Bishop, "Alpha _did_ have the worst of it, though you also had superior ships to hold it off. I will forever appreciate your willingness to send more ships in one week than the Trans-Galactic Republic sent across decades, Grayson."

"The Flood has become much less of a threat" continued Inyri Garnik. "Without its intelligences, they're little more than feral animals. So long as we prevent them from constructing another one of those—Graveminds?—we should be fine."

"The plans for new propulsion you have sent over make the universe a much smaller place" added Kaia Kolzaar. "Though it seems a step back to devote half a ship's interior volume to its engines, the notion of being only a day or two's journey from what is literally another galaxy will reshape society in ways we cannot yet predict."

"The whole spiel about common defense will be far easier to uphold" agreed Grayson, "now that it doesn't mean yearlong trips. Hyperdrives do work better between the stars, but it's still a heck of a slog!"

"Ahem."

Moxxi spoke for the first time.

"While you all debate the dissolution of this super-galactic government, myself and those representing our interests will yoke ourselves to whatever you come up with. Our home is that disorderly—we would rather have an incompetent super-state than what we had in the past…"

"Believe me, we know what happens when unchecked greed controls almost everything" said Maya. "The people at the top stay there, and everyone else ekes out a miserable existence."

"Considering 'Everyone Forward, Everyone Upward' actually meant something for me, I think it's only right that I try to pass it on" added Jackie Jakobs.

"On Earth thousands of years ago" started Hackett in his typically-gravelly but reassuring voice, "divided nation-states were ultimately reunited. Some went better than others—Germany a shining example of when it all works out; Korea, not so much."

"What lessons were there to learn from that, sir?" asked Sam Shepard, having kept quiet until now.

"Germany's government knew if they wanted to put the east on anything resembling similar footing to the west, the west would have to pay a hefty price, pumping money and patience into the east while understanding they might not see results in their lifetimes. Korea—the South wasn't willing to pay up, essentially. If I asked you to build a cruiser, but gave you the parts for a frigate and then punished you by taking parts away for failure to build a cruiser, how do you think that would work out?"

"Well, you know me…"

"Your ability to talk, or punch, anyone into anything aside, it would generally not go over well."

Hackett smiled; Samantha had an uncanny ability to make the impossible happen. But he doubted even she could yell at an entire galaxy enough to whip it into shape.

"What, you doubt my ability to run the benevolent dictatorship of Shepard?"

Seeing nobody found her humor amusing, Sam quieted down.

"At any rate, if you're going to try to turn this cluster into something workable, we have a unique opportunity to rebuild almost everything from the ground up—but you only get one chance!" The Admiral accentuated this last point with several stabs of his finger. "Though, I will admit our neighbor is in better shape than we are, considering our entire galaxy fell under Flood control."

Many hours of negotiating produced a blueprint for the "Intergalactic Federation of States." Though it seemed petty, the notion of avoiding terms which were associated with failure held fast—nobody wanted to be called the Trans-Galactic Republic anymore. The Intergalactic Federation of States codified some aspects of its predecessor that existed _de facto_ despite having a different interpretation in actual written statute. For instance, each galaxy now had full command (and responsibility) for its own defense forces, rather than the implied "Alpha will handle it" that existed under the Trans-Galactic Republic. That Alpha seldom handled it drove this idea.

Alpha did receive the role of primary benefactor, since it would possess the single strongest economy for years to come. This opened the door to a risk that future leaders in Alpha would hold this fact over everyone else's head, but it was a chance that had to be taken. Damned if you do (see previous), damned if you don't (everyone else remains poor for generations). Strongly-worded treaties discouraged such behavior, as much as could be expected from "paper shackles."

Grayson promised to drop those interested in rebuilding other galaxies to their homes with significant numbers of escorts—nobody needed a fleet ten million strong with the Flood and Council Darksiders defeated.

"We'll take as many of them as is practical, Admiral, but you have to realize even with this new digistruction technology millions of new citizens are going to be difficult to manage."

"Thank you, Hackett. I'm dispatching them now."

"Hackett out."


	15. Spin Off

A/N: So ends the longest thing I never thought I'd end up doing. 151 chapters, three stories, and roughly 740,000 words later, the epic story of Samantha Shepard is finally over. I had three plans for various continuations in the trio of galaxies that made appearances, but I just couldn't get any of them to "take off" so to speak, so they remain unfinished and unpublished.

This isn't filed under Star Wars because until the very end of _Origins_ , there were no canon Star Wars characters involved—I just wanted to pit Star Destroyers against Reapers.

 **Chapter 15 – Spin Off**

"We are literally rebuilding the Garden of Eden" began Admiral Steven Hackett, addressing his fleet and fellow leaders-in-residence. "This is the time to drop old grievances and start fresh."

Unlike some Council meetings of years past, all of the proceedings were being broadcast to everyone within the fleet, in addition to being recorded for the public record.

"It's easy for you to say" said Tevos irritably. "You just get to…"

"This is exactly what will doom this effort before it starts" countered Victus. "Need I remind you that nobody here has clean hands? The turians deployed the genophage, the krogan were multiplying out of control, the salarians developed it, and the asari demanded everyone hand over Prothean technology while secretly hoarding their own special cache of it under the guise of religion! If we stand here accusing each other, we will get nowhere!"

"You left out the humans" spat Tevos.

"Indeed I did. Their wrongs are of an entirely different sort—'jumping the line' as it were. And the only reason they fell afoul of a line in the first place is because we established it. We designed a system that worked for us, without considering it might not be the best for everyone."

"So you are saying we were wrong." Tevos pouted.

"I don't think it was so much that you were wrong" growled Wrex, "as much as you were stubborn. Sure, when things hum along why change what works? But when something new crops up and you keep traveling the same road? That's just stupid."

"Which is why we are considering this proposal" added Hackett. "A two-house legislature—the lower represents planets or systems based on population while the upper represents species equally."

"A very _human_ invention" sniffed Tevos. "We have always used direct democracy…"

"…and why would you support that system for yourselves, but not for the galaxy as a whole?" challenged Tali'Zorah. She hated politics but for the sake of the quarian species she would serve if asked.

Hackett had to reign everyone in again. While an objective observer would understand the rationale for "everyone gang up on the asari" (small matter of broken pedestals), it wasn't productive.

"The strangest part will be establishing a government of any sort to administer the few hundred thousand that survived" he concluded.

"Which is why this government has to work the first time!" thundered Wrex. "It needs to work now, and two krogan lifetimes from now!"

Tevos glared.

"It's supposed to be funny!" protested the krogan.

[…]

"Well, if you asked me if I ever wanted to be President, I'd have to say no."

Moxxi frowned when no one showed any signs of amusement.

"The government we had was completely ineffective." Athena minced no words. "It was neither efficient nor equitable. The United Defense Command would have almost been preferable!"

"Now _that_ isn't funny."

"I suppose now would be a good time to try to explain how the Interstellar Democracy League worked where I'm from" offered Roland-of-another-plane.

"We know how democracy works, Roland" snapped Maya irritably. "We don't need…"

"I know everyone is aware of that" he replied, as calm and unflappable as the Roland everyone remembered. "What's important is how to convince everyone who lives here that it's worth trying for."

"I'm guessing everything there didn't work because someone waved a magic wand, or the corporations were naturally benevolent" ventured Mallory.

"You are correct, at least in part. Some of the corporations there turned out to be run by genuinely good people, unlike here, such as Jakobs."

He quickly added "No offense, Jackie."

She said nothing.

"But there were some who were just as bad as the ones you knew, if not worse. Torgue built radiation-based weapons that were deployed against civilians in a terror campaign to try to force the IDL to capitulate. Naturally, they refused. Corporations that participated were sanctioned back to the stone age—it's part of what let Jacqueline Jakobs take over her company in my universe."

Even Jackie wanted to hear more about that.

"Some parts of the Jakobs family fought in the Corporate Rebellions, and when they lost they were naturally forced to resign from their positions. The subsequent election for CEO wasn't supposed to go her way, but her rivals miscalculated and Jaqueline ended up winning. She threw in her lot with Dahl, who already accumulated goodwill to begin with."

"Things sound pretty damn good where you're from" concluded Athena. "So how do we bring that here?"

"Lots of guns!" suggested Gaige. "We have lots of guns!"

"I know you're joking, but that won't work. These people have only known the concept of 'might makes right,' so if we try to defeat those who stand against us with that same method I fear it will only end up making them look like martyrs."

"So we show them how efficient and well-run a planet can be when it's not at the beck-and-call of corporations. And if they try to pick a fight, well…"

Athena then stood at attention.

"Look, if I were in charge of my company" (those present could tell Jackie secretly wanted this from the tone of her voice) "and some planet made a bunch of rules that were annoying—even if they were for good reasons—I'd be really tempted to just do business everywhere else."

"And then I'd spin it to blame them for causing it" added Ronald Dahl. "Well, I wouldn't, but I'm pretty sure everyone else would. Self-fulfilling prophecy of how if we return to the EDG model, everything will go back to normal. For a given definition of normal, anyway."

"Bringing real order to a society whose only form of 'order' came from who had the most money and biggest guns is a challenge, I admit" conceded Roland. "But can we afford to not try?"

[...]

Creating at least the impression of a government in the Home Galaxy ended up being the easiest task, if only for the fact that its inhabitants were used to power changing hands so frequently it seemed like a once-a-week deal. Due to this, a great number of planets (and some sectors) had shadow, "fallback" governments that kicked in should the central institution fall—these came into effect while Coruscant's statecraft rebooted.

Unlike the others, Grayson did not have to make an attempt to form an entirely new authority from scratch—institutional memory remained. That the Senate proved hopelessly corrupt, susceptible to moneyed influences, and prone to inaction were bigger problems. It would be hard to rally people around "Back to before!" when "before" recalled memories of planets covered in slime, but since he refused all offers of near-dictatorial power (being perceived as the savoir of the galaxy and all) that's exactly what happened.

"At least we have a regular military now" opined the Galaxy News Service. "Staffed by competent clones."

Nobody wanted to point out what happened the last time a government possessed huge numbers of copycat soldiers.

"At least we can rebuild" sighed Grayson. "We don't have an utterly bare galaxy, nor one that has no clue how a central government works. Let's get started…"


End file.
